28. Hadley
Hadley
“Y ou look awfully happy,” Katie says as she closes the fridge.
“I passed my speech! On the third try.”
Katie raises her hand for a high-five.
“I only said um twice. And no awkward pauses.”
She chuckles, raising her hand for a second high-five.
It’s more than just the fact I passed my speech, though.
This past week has been nothing short of perfect.
Nolan and I are together—officially. There’s no more sneaking in and out of the basement or questioning if our relationship was purely out of convenience.
Even better, Katie knows the truth and is still talking to us.
“Have you seen Hannah?” I ask. The only downer is that Hannah’s struggling from her breakup with Ethan who has been kicked off the team and out of Camden for the edibles.
Hannah spent the first two days in her room crying, and missing classes.
She’s now attending classes but spends most of her time at home, up in her room.
Katie shakes her head. “She was still asleep when I got home.”
I frown. “Do you think having everyone over for Friends-giving brunch is a bad idea?”
Katie lifts her shoulders. “I don’t know if she misses him, or if it’s the feeling of betrayal that’s got her in such a bummed mood.”
“Maybe we should get her to go out and leave the house?”
“I don’t want to go out,” Hannah says, making us jump from surprise and guilt.
“It might make you feel better,” I say. “We could go get lunch or see a movie or go get a pedicure. What about going to the bookstore? Or to get coffee?”
“I’m okay,” Hannah lies, pushing her glasses up. “Or I will be. This is how it’s supposed to be. We weren’t supposed to fall for each other, anyway. He just made it a lot easier to hate him.”
“You weren’t supposed to fall for each other?” Katie asks.
Selfishly, I’m a little relieved to hear that Katie didn’t know about Hannah’s grand plan, either. While Hannah explains the blueprint of her twenties, I stir sugar and eggs into a saucepan.
“What if you meet someone you like before you’re twenty-five?” Katie asks.
Hannah shakes her head. “After being drugged by my ex, I’m not sure I’m ready to date until I’m twenty-five.”
My heart aches for her. I hate that he wounded her trust nearly as much as I hate the method by which he did it.
“Ethan was a pig,” Katie says. “You don’t need him or anyone else. You have us.”
I grin. Even Hannah smiles.
“You’re making another chocolate crème pie?” Hannah asks as I start chipping the semi-sweet chocolate.
“Katie said the last one was too sweet,” I say.
“I can’t believe your grandma won’t share the recipe,” Hannah says with a smirk.
Katie shakes her head. “My dad’s been begging her for the recipe for her pea salad for the past thirty years. She’s unbreakable.”
“Where do the pies keep going?” Hannah asks, opening the fridge. “I was looking to eat one for breakfast, but they were all gone.”
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I pawned the last two off on Evelyn.”
“She wants to surprise Nolan.” Katie looks at me as though I’ve lost a few marbles.
“I think it’s sweet,” Hannah says.
“Sweeter if he wasn’t my brother.”
“Isn’t it kind of nice though?” Hannah asks. “You like your brother’s girlfriend. You know she’s not a psycho, and that her intentions are all good.”
Katie drums her fingers across the counter. “Camden was not my first choice. I chose to come here because my best friend who was dating Nolan wanted to come here so she could be with him.”
Hannah winces, while surprise has me turning my full attention to Katie, recognizing the similarities in Nolan’s ex and me. How I’d picked the college I attended for a boy, just as she had.
“Does she attend Camden?” My heart thrums nervously, feeling a level of jealousy and anger toward the stranger that doesn’t seem plausible or rational.
Katie shakes her head. “She took a year off and then applied to a local university.”
“Do you guys still talk?” Hannah asks.
I recall Katie telling me about the bonfire in her driveway as she shakes her head, glancing in my direction.
“That sucks,” I tell her. “Breaking up with a friend hurts just as much—sometimes more—than breaking up with a guy.”
Katie’s eyes turn pleading. “Exactly. That’s why as much as I want to support you and your decision to be with Nolan, it freaks me the fuck out. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have many friends, and I really hate change.”
“You? Hate change?” Hannah throws a hand across her chest. “I’m shocked.”
Katie rolls her eyes.
“I promise, nothing will change between us,” I tell her.
She nods. “I hope so. We’ll see what happens come June.”
“June?” I ask, as validation and approval from her slide into my thoughts, chased too closely by doubt. “What’s in June.”
“When Nolan moves. Assuming he gets drafted.”
Moves.
The word is a hatchet to my chest—to my perfect week. I haven’t spent much time thinking past Thanksgiving, but June suddenly seems like a heartbeat away.
“Can I keep this pie in my room?” Hannah asks as I subconsciously stir the filling.
I shake my head, hoping to rid the unwanted thoughts, but they cling like cobwebs. “We can keep it in a cooler in your room, and then put it in the fridge tomorrow since Nolan has an away game this week.”
She looks almost sad, as though mentioning football is a fresh reminder of Ethan being gone.
“Why don’t we cancel Friendsgiving brunch?” I suggest. “We can still have brunch here, the three of us. We’ll do it smaller and have it on Saturday before they get back.”
“No. Definitely not.” Hannah shakes her head. “Ethan took enough by drugging me and then moving without an apology call or text, there’s no way I’m going to let him take my friends away, too. I want waffles. I want brunch, dammit, and I want some chocolate pie. How long until it’s ready?”
I grin. “Two hours. But you can lick the spatula when I’m done.”
“Only if I get half,” Katie corrects.
I should be used to Nolan being gone, but yesterday and today seem to last an eternity even with finalizing my special occasion speech written about my future niece or nephew and making two more chocolate crème pies.
With them working to integrate the new plays Krueger has been working on with them into Peters’ old playbook, he’s continued to have long days and early mornings.
We’re carving out time by me waking up early, him staying up late, and trying to find any and all gaps in our schedules where we can steal away time, even if it’s to grab coffee (tea for him).
I slice into the two pies, praying one of these is right since I’m running out of time.
I’ve never made a recipe to match someone else’s that I’ve never tasted.
It’s been a feat, and when I asked Katie to describe what their grandma’s chocolate crème pie tasted like, her response was: chocolate pie.
I’ve added brandy, changed types of chocolate, crusts, and sugar—trying to make it taste like their grandma’s.
“I kind of miss lasagna,” Katie says, accepting the pie as we sit in the living room, ready to watch the game.
“I’m loving this one, personally,” Hannah says. “I think you should find the best recipe for all flavors of pie. Or maybe cheesecake.”
“I could get behind cheesecake,” Katie says with a nod.
“My favorite was the banana bread,” Carsen says from his seat beside Katie.
“Well, let’s hope one of these is it,” I say, sitting down with my own plate of pie.
“How are you going to keep Nolan from knowing about the brunch?” Carsen asks, taking a bite of pie.
“I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t already found out about it,” I admit. “I think Evelyn might have threatened them all with bodily harm if they told him.”
“Have I mentioned I like her?” Katie says.
I grin. “Good because I was thinking we should start a book club. It can start with us three, her and Mila, and maybe we’ll find some more people who want to join.”
I’m waiting for Katie to remind me that she only reads fiction. “This is it,” she says instead. “This is my grandma’s chocolate crème pie.”
Relief consumes me. “Are you sure? It’s not too sweet?”
She shakes her head. “No. This is it.” She takes another bite. “Don’t tell her, but it might be a little better. It’s so creamy.”
Hannah beams. “It’s really good. But I liked the brandy one, too. Maybe this time you have a tie.” She takes a bite of pie from the winning slice. “But this is really good. I’d eat this over pumpkin pie.”
“You wound me,” Carsen says. “It’s not Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie.”
“Next year, we’ll work to find the best pumpkin pie,” I promise him.
“I’m all in on the book club idea,” Katie says.
Carsen turns up the TV as Camden’s defense takes the field to start the game.
Nolan’s been nervous about tonight’s game, explaining that both their offense and defense will be hard as they also fight for an undefeated season.
Currently, there are six teams in the conference still undefeated, and tonight there will be one less.
I need to start making more pies for tomorrow’s brunch, but like the others, I remain rooted to my seat, unable to look away. I’m too invested.
Hannah’s beginning to understand more about football, and while I expected her to want to game or go upstairs while we played, she remains downstairs with us, watching as Camden’s defense becomes a wall of will and strength.
When the switch to offense and Nolan takes the field, anticipation and nerves curl in my stomach as though I’m on the field with him.
Katie watches each play with rapt attention, accusing the refs of playing favorites and being biased on numerous occasions as Camden attempts to score.
The camera pans to Hudson as they line up again.
The commentator explains Hudson’s father played briefly in the NFL before an injury forced him into early retirement.
The detail is a weight in my chest. The camera moves to Grey, who they refer to as Greyson, discussing how far he’s come, teasing that he’s one of the most aggressive offensive players in the league, and then joking that they wouldn’t want to be the ones responsible for stopping him.
They turn to Nolan next. He’s still, so still, I can’t tell if he’s considering something or fuming.
The commentators discuss Nolan is one of the fastest running backs in the league, as well as one of the smartest, able to predict moves and plays that allow him to find open lanes.
Nolan turns, calling something to Hudson and the commentators chuckle that they caught him calling something out that has the team making slight alterations.
They don’t look as angry as they had a few weeks ago, but there’s still a level of restraint and resentment obvious in their expressions.
At halftime, Katie, Hannah, and Carsen follow me into the kitchen, chopping and measuring things as I ask so we can have enough chocolate crème pies that we don’t run out.
I spend the second half of the game going between the kitchen and the living room to watch the game.
“Two minutes left, Hadley. Come sit down,” Hannah calls.
Camden is down by three. I’m considering contingencies and delaying the brunch.
“They’re going to win,” Carsen says confidently.
Katie shakes her head. “This game is way too close.”
We collectively gasp when Corey gets a hard tackle that has him down for a long minute, and release a collective breath when Palmer pulls him to his feet.
I never thought I’d be so invested, not just with Nolan, but with the others, as well.
They line up again, and from the sidelines, Peters yells and screams, throwing something that has the commentators discussing his sometimes militant approach. The mild reprimand is quickly excused with Camden’s record over the past several years.
Hudson passes the ball to Palmer. Peters screams, flapping his arms and losing a crutch in the process, revealing they’re not playing his game.
Watching Palmer sprint, I realize why Nolan had so much confidence for him to win the cookie run.
He’s fast, comically fast. I expect him to run the ball down the entirety of the field, but he comes to an abrupt stop and passes it down the field to Nolan who scores a touchdown with two seconds to spare.